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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28883136">Hollywood Tragedy Aftermath</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelicitySmoaksx/pseuds/FelicitySmoaksx'>FelicitySmoaksx</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>JaTP Bingo 2021 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Julie and The Phantoms (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bobby | Trevor Wilson Backstory, Bobby | Trevor Wilson Defense Squad, Bobby | Trevor Wilson Redemption, Bobby | Trevor Wilson-centric, F/M, Good Person Bobby | Trevor Wilson, Sunset Curve (Julie and The Phantoms), jukebox if you squint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:08:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,554</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28883136</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelicitySmoaksx/pseuds/FelicitySmoaksx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>But Trevor had stopped listening, instead, he was blinking rapidly as he stared at the screen. Nope. No matter how many times he blinked, his bandmates that had been dead for the last twenty-five years still stood there playing their instruments. It wasn’t just the angle or the lighting of the video. There were his three dead bandmates.  Luke on the guitar, Reggie on the bass, and Alex was of course on the drums.  The mantra that had stopped years ago was back with a vengeance. HOLLYWOOD TRAGEDY. HOLLYWOOD HOLLYWOODTRADGEYHOLLYWOODTRADGEY. </p>
<p>Or my take on Bobby|Trevor's backstory and how he dealt with the aftermath of losing the rest of Sunset Curve.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bobby | Trevor Wilson &amp; Alex Mercer &amp; Luke Patterson &amp; Reggie Peters, Bobby | Trevor Wilson &amp; Julie Molina, Bobby | Trevor Wilson &amp; Ray Molina &amp; Rose, Bobby | Trevor Wilson &amp; Rose Molina, Julie Molina/Luke Patterson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>JaTP Bingo 2021 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118198</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>108</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Julie and the Phantoms Bingo Challenge</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hollywood Tragedy Aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This originally was a Tumblr prompt that spiraled into something much bigger. I thought maybe 500 words to 1000 max. I think with it being finished, it was a little over 5000 words. Big thanks to the-poodles-of-pulitzer for the prompt: "Something about Bobby during/after the Orpheum performance (and maybe his reaction to watching the video if you want?) and him realizing that his dead bandmates are back?" And my bingo card for the JaTP Bingo arrived just in time as this fills my 'Backstory' space. Happy reading!   <a class="insidious" href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/45FABtgNQBhLfkNioapEDV">Here's a spotify playlist I made for the fic!</a><br/><a class="insidious" href="http://felicitysmoaksx.tumblr.com/">And here's my tumblr!</a><br/></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>A Hollywood Tragedy’s Aftermath</b>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn't even know if he wanted to play music anymore with the guys gone. But every time Bobby thought about quitting or giving up, he would hear Luke’s voice rambling about how he wanted that musical connection with everyone. Or he’d hear Alex say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘okay,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> with that little head shake he did when things didn’t make sense to him. And if Bobby heard Alex and Luke, then you knew Reggie wasn’t far behind them, telling everyone that they were Sunset Curve and to </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell their friends</span>
  </em>
  <span>! After everything he and his friends-his brothers had been through trying to be legends, he was just going to give up? The answer was no. No, he wasn’t. Bobby owed them that. To make all their dreams come true. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t easy. He tried to go solo with the name Bobby Wilson before. In the early days, after he had mourned his friends and bandmates and had gone to their funerals. (In fact, he tried to go forward with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sunset Curve</span>
  </em>
  <span> like what Brandon Urie was doing with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Panic! at the Disco</span>
  </em>
  <span> these days) But every record label, manager, and booking agent told him the same thing. What happened to his band was a tragedy, there was no denying that. Especially when you thought about the night Alex, Luke, and Reggie died-that that night was meant to be their big break. But the fact was that just like the band’s name, was tied to the tragedy, so was his name. And okay, maybe it was some of his attitude too. (Whenever whoever said this, Bobby would roll his eyes because of course he was tied to Sunset Curve and he didn’t need middle-aged men and women to tell him that his friends were dead and that it was a tragedy. He knew all of this himself, thank you very much Mr. Manager, Record Label Executive, and Booking Agent.) But the point was that he tried. He tried so damn hard to make it work if only to make the guys proud of him. But no one would take on a mere rhythm guitarist with a band name that was entangled with the throes of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Hollywood Tragedy’</span>
  </em>
  <span> as many magazines back then and websites were calling it now. No matter how amazing Luke’s songs were.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> So Bobby took on a stage name. Instead of Bobby Wilson, he used his middle name and became </span>
  <em>
    <span>Trevor Wilson</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Now people were willing to talk and negotiate with him, but again Bobby ran into the problem of when he went to record Luke’s songs and you know, give him the credit for at least writing the songs. He ran into the same problem. No one wanted to deal with the tragedy. It was bad for business and sales. Now if they had actually made it big before it happened like</span>
  <em>
    <span> Freddy Mercury</span>
  </em>
  <span> had with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Queen</span>
  </em>
  <span>, then that’d be another story. But they hadn’t. No one wanted to listen to a dead guy’s song. (Twenty-five years later they would be proved wrong but that’s later in the story.) </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>~~~</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you need to credit them? It’s not like they need the money or fame.” His first manager, Stacey,  tried to convince him, after explaining why the record label liked the songs but didn’t like that he was trying to give someone else credit. By now, he had heard the words, Hollywood Tragedy so much that they played like a mantra in his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hollywood Tragedy. Hollywood Tragedy. Hollywood Tragedy. Hollywood. Tragedy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He shut his eyes as a memory of that fateful night played out in his head before he opened them again to look at the woman, who was seven years his senior to his mere nineteen years. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Because they deserve it. Do you realize that I was the rhythm guitarist? Yeah, sure my voice is decent but I was the backing vocals. These aren’t my songs. Look, you might have an argument on why I shouldn’t give Alex or Reggie credit, (Though Bobby didn’t think it was a very good argument because Alex and Reggie helped come up with the arrangements for the songs just as Bobby did. ) but  Luke wrote most of these himself. I don’t see why I can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>at least give him</span>
  </em>
  <span> the credit for the songs. I mean can you really see me recording a song called, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘My Name is Luke’</span>
  </em>
  <span> when my name </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> Luke? People are going to have questions.” He argued back. His fists clenched when she rolled her eyes at him. It was as if she was calling him a dumb kid for having such an honest answer. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s either you claim them as your songs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And only your songs</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Stacey stressed when he opened his mouth to protest, “Or your contract is torn up and those songs never see the light of day. Now, what do you think your friends would really care about? Credit or having that </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘musical connection’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>you’ve been talking about the last three months?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In an ideal world, Sunset Curve would be here with him, making the record. But this wasn’t his ideal world and he had choices to make, big choices. The nineteen-year-old looked down at his feet, not meeting her eyes. Because when she put it like that...she had a point. Luke would care more about his music having an impact on someone than who got the credit. But still. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not fair,” he said before wincing. Now there he could hear himself sound like a kid and by the way, Stacey shook her head at him, she did too. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t your parents ever teach you that life isn’t fair? Grow up.”  She told him flatly. Then she paused and a grin slowly spread across her lips. At the same time, dread bubbled inside Bobby. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“As for ‘My Name is Luke,’ you could say you wrote it about a friend, whose name was Luke. There. Problem solved. Now, you go in there and make all of us a lot of money.” The hand she used to clap him on his shoulder burned as she shoved him into the recording studio. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The album </span>
  <em>
    <span>Long Weekend</span>
  </em>
  <span> debuted a year later on Reggie’s birthday. But instead of celebrating his album release, the boy, who didn’t quite feel like a man yet, threw up his nerves. Then he wiped his mouth, got in his brand new car (a gift from the label), and drove to each of his friend’s parents’ house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>~~~</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Patterson’s house was the closest; they might have also been the hardest place to start though. Luke’s parents loved him. They just didn’t always agree with the band. Or their son’s choice to put all his eggs in the band’s basket. But it had to be done. These were Luke’s songs after all. If Bobby couldn’t give his bandmates’ credit, then he could do the next best thing and tell their parents what they had accomplished. It was only right. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pulling into Patterson's driveway, his nerves rose up in his stomach again. He hadn’t seen Mitch or Emily since the funeral they held for Luke. He sucked in a deep breath, before heaving himself out of the car. The mantra had returned. Louder now, in time with his heartbeat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hollywood Tragedy.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hollywood Tragedy. HollywoodTragedyHollywoodTragedyHollywoodTragedyHollywoodTragedy.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Somehow he had made it to their front door. God, he was going to be sick. He owed it to them though. Their families deserved to know. He rang the doorbell. When Mitch answered the door, he gulped loudly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, Mr. Patterson,” He managed the greeting to the older man, who looked shell shocked to see him standing on his front porch. “Uh, is Mrs. Patterson around? There is something I need to talk to both of you about. It’s important. Uh, it’s about Luke.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, Robert. Come in, come in.” The older man ushered him inside before he called for his wife. When Emily smiled at him, it hurt to smile back. But he managed. If he couldn’t give the guys the credit to the world, he would them credit where it mattered most. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he left much later, Emily was crying. She sobbed as she hugged him goodbye, “Thank you, Robert. You don’t know how much this means to us.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bobby shook his head. He didn’t deserve any thanks. He was only doing what he thought was right. But there was one more thing Luke’s parents deserved to know. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He was always going to come back, Mrs. Patterson. The night after…” The nineteen-year-old cleared his throat, “He wanted to prove that he-that we could make it. He loved you guys, but he also loved music with everything he had, and I know his music will be adored by everyone who listens to it. Even if they don’t know it’s his. But now you’ll know it’s his.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Emily sobbed again and hugged him even tighter. Whether they were tears of joy or sadness, he couldn’t tell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>~~~</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He left the Patterson’s with one last goodbye and moved on to Alex’s family’s house.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>More or less his parents could care less. Bobby really struggled to keep his cool there. Alex was their son, but ever since he came out to them, they acted like he didn’t exist. Like he wasn’t their son anymore. Bobby had hoped that his friends’ death would’ve been a wake-up call to the Mercer’s. Apparently not though. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” he stopped just short of the door, turning on his heel to face the older couple, and maybe it was because they were older, that they didn’t understand. But that still didn’t give them the right to treat their son as they had. “Alex was the same person you thought he was before he came out to you. He wasn’t different. The fact that you can’t get over that, even now that he’s gone is just sad. And I feel bad for you because you have to live with the fact that he died, thinking you hated him.” Then he turned back around and moved quickly out of the house before they could actively kick him out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>~~~</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Talking to Reggie’s mom wasn’t difficult, but it wasn’t easy either. The bass player’s parents had always been one fight away from divorce. (Everyone knew it even though they never talked about it for Reggie’s sake.) But Reggie’s death had been the breaking point for the woman. When he explained he was going to see both Alex’s and Reggie’s family to Emily and Mitch, they informed him that Reggie’s father had left town and Reggie’s mother had moved into a new apartment in Downtown LA. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now he sat in front of the woman in her new apartment, drinking tea as he explained everything to her. When he had finished talking and looked up at her, she was smiling sadly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“When he was at home, Reggie was always so quiet. It was like he was trying to be invisible. Looking back with all our fighting, he probably was and that was probably why he was never home. Or why never talked to us. Now he’s gone and I never got the chance to really know him. But you did. You and Luke, and Alex knew him. Was he happy?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bobby couldn’t help the chuckle as he nodded, “Yes Ms.Peters he was very happy. We all believed in what we did and even though it's been a few years, I can still hear his rambling in my head sometimes. About anything and everything  Or it’s him telling people that we were Sunset Curve and that everyone should tell their friends.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ms. Peters smiled at him again. This one brighter, but considerably more wobbly and watery. Her eyes were also starting to form tears. These were his best friend’s eyes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. That’s all that matters to me. That he was happy.” she said finally, after a long silence had stretched between the two. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <b>~~~</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Life moved on.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Long Weekend </span>
  </em>
  <span>went double platinum. Trevor Wilson became a household name in the coming years. Every year on the anniversary of his best friends’ death, he went and visited their graves.  His mother passed in her sleep, when he was twenty-one. He fired Stacey because she couldn’t understand why he needed more than a day to grieve for his mother. He hired Ricky Owen. He started recording his next album when he was twenty-three. They were still Luke’s songs, but his label still wanted him to claim them as his. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rose, the girl from that night at the Orpheum, who had stuck by his side since that night, met Ray Molina. A year later he was a groomsman at their wedding and Bobby bought his Malibu mansion. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At twenty-five, his father had a heart attack, so he had to move into a retirement home. (Bobby had offered his own home so that he could take care of him. But his father merely shook his head in disagreement, claiming that it wouldn’t be good for his career. He had just started to gain traction. If he stopped now to care for his old man, it would all be for nothing.) Since he was in charge of selling his parent's house, he sold it to Rose and Ray. Was it way under the listing price? Possibly. (Not that he’d ever mention that to either of them.) </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he was twenty-six, </span>
  <em>
    <span>In Your Starlight</span>
  </em>
  <span> debuted and it was the fastest-selling record of the year and for that, he won Album and Artist of the Year. The years twenty-seven and twenty-eight were passing in a blur. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Until it wasn’t. Everything came to a screeching halt when he found out the girl he had been dating for the last three months was pregnant and suddenly, he was about to be a single father because the girl didn’t want kids. Rose and Ray also found out Rose was pregnant and really it was a relief because he wasn’t about to go through having kids alone. Jokingly, he speculated with Ray that their children might be born on the same day. He never considered that it could actually happen. But nine months later, out came </span>
  <em>
    <span>Carrie Alexandra Wilson</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Julianna Victoria Molina</span>
  </em>
  <span> within a mere hour of each other. The moment Carrie came into the world, the world resettled on his shoulders and his daughter became the center of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>~~~</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the next fifteen years, he didn’t make any music, except for a single here or there, because he was focusing on actively raising his daughter. It was only after Rose was diagnosed that he started writing his own music. He wanted a way to honor his friend that had stuck by his side for so many years. The record came out six months after she had passed, and while it wasn’t his most popular, it was his favorite. But there was a flaw. While he was busy making new music, he hadn’t noticed that Carrie and Julie had fallen out of touch and were closer to frenemies these days than they were friends. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>~~~</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trevor never thought about Bobby Wilson much these days. Somewhere in between those fifteen years, he had stopped thinking of himself as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bobby</span>
  </em>
  <span> and more as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Trevor</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Bobby was his past and per his therapist, that was where it was meant to stay. Little did he know that Bobby’s past would come back to haunt him in the form of a video on his daughter’s laptop. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had just come back from his afternoon workout to see Carrie sitting at the kitchen island with a video playing on her laptop. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey baby,” he said, walking closer and dropping a kiss on her head, “What is that? It sounds good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please don’t say that,” his daughter scoffed as he peered closer at the screen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, is that Julie?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, apparently she’s in a band with those guys,” She scoffed again, pointing at the screen as three guys appeared out of thin air, “Of course she needed a gimmick. They’re holograms. And somehow because the world hates me, they’re playing the Orpheum tonight.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But Trevor had stopped listening, instead, he was blinking rapidly as he stared at the screen. Nope. No matter how many times he blinked, his bandmates that had been dead for the last twenty-five years still stood there playing their instruments. It wasn’t just the angle or the lighting of the video. There were his three dead bandmates.  Luke on the guitar, Reggie on the bass, and Alex was of course on the drums.  The mantra that had stopped years ago was back with a vengeance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>HOLLYWOOD TRAGEDY. HOLLYWOOD HOLLYWOODTRADGEYHOLLYWOODTRADGEY. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“T-That’s impossible.” He spoke softly, mostly to himself. But Carrie assumed he was talking to her as she huffed in agreement, “I know right?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>By the time he pulled out his phone, his stomach had plummeted to his feet. He must be hallucinating. It was coming up on the anniversary in a few weeks. Yeah, that had to be it. But he had to be sure. “Hey, it’s Trevor. Get me into the Orpheum tonight. Plus one.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully he hadn’t sounded as shaken as he felt. His voice came out steady and clear. He took the stairs two at a time in an effort to get rid of the energy that had suddenly appeared. He had just hung up the phone when Carrie’s voice pulled him out of his fog. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you hate me too?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He turned, jogging back to his daughter. He pressed kisses to her head, “Only love Carrie Alexandra. Only love.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He squeezed her shoulder before he jogged back up the steps. He needed to get ready for tonight. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Should he call his therapist? No, they would just think he was crazy. (Was he?)</span>
  </em>
  <span> God, he was going to be sick. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <b>~~~</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Okay. He needed to get his shit together. So his bandmates that had been dead for the last twenty-five years were back and had just played the Orpheum last night, looking every bit alive as they had the night they died and he hadn’t been hallucinating the day before. But it didn’t make sense. His friends had been gone for twenty-five years. But last night he saw them perform with Rose’s daughter and it wasn’t just him, who saw them. Everyone had. So he wasn’t going crazy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> He needed to talk to someone about this, but Rose was gone, and if he told his therapist...They would think he was having a mental breakdown. That only left one person that he could talk to. It was the very person who was performing with the three ghosts. If Ray questioned it, his excuse would be that he was coming to congratulate Julie on last night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <b>~~~</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ray told him that she was in the studio. “She’s having a band rehearsal. Technology really has come a long way, since you and I were kids though, huh? Because I know they’re holograms. But most of the time, it feels as if those boys are right in my studio. Crazy right?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Crazy. Right</span>
  </em>
  <span>… Trevor thought as he thanked the other man before he made his way to the studio. Memories assaulted him while he made his way down the familiar path. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Reggie’s laughter as he and Luke bickered back and forth with each other. Meanwhile, Alex was trying to play peacekeeper between the two before it could turn into a bigger argument. Although they butted heads at times, this was the place Luke ran to, when he had the fight with his parents. Bobby had been the first person he told. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His feet continued to carry him to the garage and Ray was right; it did sound like there was a full-fledged band in there. Which there was, as far as Trevor knew, but to other people, it was just Julie in there. Knocking when he reached the door, he waited as the music came to a stop before the doors opened just a crack. Julie’s head popped out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span><em>“Trevor!”</em> She exclaimed, her eyes wide. Trevor smiled at her, hoping it came across as friendly and genuine, instead of a stressed and tense grimace, “What are you doing here?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your dad said you were out here. I wanted to congratulate you on last night. Not many people can say they played the Orpheum at your age.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You were there?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> If possible her eyes got wider, before she glanced behind her. But either the doors weren’t open wide enough for him to see who or what she was looking at or there was nothing there at all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Carrie and I both were. She would’ve been here. But she is with my Dad, visiting him. Can I come in? There’s something I want to show you.” She looked as if wanted to tell him no, but after a moment Julie sighed and pushed the doors opened wider.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, this used to be my house before I sold it to your parents. Before this was ever your mom’s studio though this used to be my band’s studio. Sunset Curve,” Trevor paused to look at Julie, searching her face for any change. But there wasn’t any. He continued, “We were supposed to play the Orpheum too, back in ‘95. We were a little older than you though. It’s actually where I met Rose. She was working there the night we were meant to go on.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Julie still said nothing, he pressed on once more. “In fact, being there made me feel nostalgic. I didn’t find any pictures of Rose and me. But I did find one of Sunset Curve.” The teenager sucked in a breath. He pulled the old polaroid out of his pocket, handing it to her. It shook in her hands. The photo was taken on the day of the Orpheum performance. All four of them huddled close together with their arms thrown over their backs, beaming up at the camera. He pointed to each of the boy’s smiling faces. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s me, Luke Patterson, Alex Mercer, and Reggie Peters.” His eyes met Julie’s, some emotion was swimming in those brown eyes though. His next words were whispered, “But you already knew that, didn’t you?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The teenager released a shaky exhale of a breath.   </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“<em>Tio</em>,” it threw him off guard to hear the title fall from Julie’s lips so easily because she hadn’t called him that since Rose had passed, “Do you believe in ghosts?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know if you had asked me that before last night, I would’ve said no. But last night, I watched three of my best friends, who died twenty-five years ago perform with you. All of them looking and sounding exactly as I remember them.” He told her. He watched her nod her head before she walked over to her piano. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Trevor, I’m pretty sure you don’t need this introduction. But take a seat and look around the studio. You’ll notice there is no projector or other equipment that could produce a hologram.” She told him. Doing as instructed he nodded at her. She nodded back, before she started to play, “Because you’re right. The guys died twenty-five years ago. But they came back as ghosts. No one can see them, except for me. Except for when we play music together. Then they become visible to everyone.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly there were his former bandmates staring back at him, following the simple melody that Julie was playing on her piano keys. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Holy. Shit.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He couldn’t help but whisper, mouth dropping open. Trevor had been expecting something like this. But seeing it and expecting it were two totally different things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>~~~</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trevor didn’t have long to recover from his shock though, because Luke was standing in front of him. A look of pure fury on his face as his fingers continued strumming on his guitar. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell do you want? Come to steal more of my songs?” The words were a snarl. Suddenly Trevor wasn’t Trevor anymore. The man had traveled to the past and he was eighteen year old Bobby Wilson. It was just another day and another fight with Luke. He stood up, nearly coming toe to toe with his former bandmate. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t want to do that. But you have no fucking idea what I had to deal with when you three died.” He snarled right back at him.  The drums missed a beat somewhere in the background. There might have also been someone trying to break up the brewing fight. Neither Bobby nor Luke heard them though. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You think we wanted to die?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but it also wasn’t a piece of cake being the last member of the band either. I grieved for each of you. I went to three separate funerals. Practically had to plan Alex’s because his parents were only doing the bare minimum. I  wasn’t even sure if I wanted to play without you anymore. But I thought I owed it to all of you to achieve our dream. No one wanted to fuck with the aftermath of a Hollywood Tragedy though.” He explained. Only pausing enough to tell the lead guitarist that he was talking and that Bobby wasn’t going to let himself be interrupted. By now the anger had drained from his body and in its place was exhaustion. Still, the former rhythm guitarist continued his tale. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>‘“No one would even talk to me and the few who did, all told me that you were gone. Like I needed to be told that. That no one wanted to buy a dead guy’s songs. So I had to take on a stage name before someone even agreed to talk to me, let alone even sign me. When I tried to give you all credit for songs in the byline, the label told me I had to claim them as my own or they would never see the light of day. My contract would be torn up. So I tried to think of what you would want most. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Credit for your songs or your songs having an impact on someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And looking back now, I probably could have fought harder to give you credit. But I was a stupid kid, who was way in over his head and every adult in the label at the time saw that and took advantage. I gave you credit where it mattered most though. I told your parents’ they were your songs.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You-you what?”  Luke sputtered as he fell back a step. Their bubble had popped and Reggie, Alex, and Julie came back into focus.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I told all of your parents that they were all of our songs. The day </span>
  <em>
    <span>Long Weekend</span>
  </em>
  <span> debuted. Luke, your parents knew you made it. That you would’ve been a success. After my parents, they were the second people to buy my CD. They were so proud.” The guitarist continued to stumble as if the news was almost too much for him to bear, until he was sitting beside Julie on the piano bench. He had stopped playing the guitar until the girl nudged him. (And it was only the shock of seeing his best friend’s back as ghosts, that it didn’t register to him that Julie had touched Luke.)  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And Actually, I probably owe you an apology.” Bobby pointed to the blond behind the drums, “After I told yours, I told them off for being dicks.” He glanced at Julie with a wince, before he tried to justify himself for his choice of words. “I just hated the way they were acting about everything and how they treated you. So I had to say something. It didn’t help anything though. I haven’t seen them since that day.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, Bobby. For standing up for me when I couldn’t stand for myself.” Alex smiled at him, but it looked like the boy was in pain. But Bobby didn’t have time to linger on the drummer because Reggie was standing in front of him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And my parents?” His best friend’s voice was small like it usually was after his parents had had a fight. A soft, gentle smile was sent the bassist’s way. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I haven’t seen your father since we last saw them back in ‘95. Per the Patterson’s, you were the last straw for your parent’s marriage. Or at least it was for your mother. Your dad left town. But your mom got an apartment in Downtown LA. She was the third person to buy my CD. When I talked to her last month, she was getting settled into a routine down in the Valley, where she now lives with your older brother, his wife, and fraternal twins.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You still talk to her?” The shock was clear in Reggie’s voice. Bobby nodded. “Once every month. She feels bad that she missed the chance to really know you, so she likes for me to tell her old stories about you.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And my brother has twins?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Two boys. Reginald Alexander and Lucas Robert Peters.” He smiled. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Eric named them after us?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>All three of the boys spoke in tandem as they each stumbled on their instruments.  Bobby nodded, before he looked at Alex, “Actually you have two namesakes. Eric’s boy and my daughter. Carrie Alexandra. I named her before I knew Eric even had his boys.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s wow...ok.” Alex looked down at his drums for a moment, before his eyes found Bobby’s again. It might have been the trick of the light, but it looked like the blond’s eyes were starting to fill up with tears, “That’s a lot to take in, but I’m honored, Bobby.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’ll be happy to know that when your nephews go off to college, they won’t have to worry about money. Your mother told me that she’s splitting the money I’ve been giving her over the years into two funds for them.” He told Reggie offhandedly, not realizing that what he was saying would have an effect on all three boys. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You give my family money?” Reggie's eyes grew impossibly wide at the new information, The older man couldn’t help but shrug as he stared at his feet. “Well, yeah. But not just your family. The Patterson’s too. Not that they ever touch it and if I knew where they were, I would give it to the Mercers' too. But like I said, I haven’t seen them since that one day. But I thought it was only right. If your names had been on the byline, they would be getting that money anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Silence engulfed them all then. The only sound was the instruments playing. Until Bobby cleared his throat and moved so he was right in front of the piano. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You still have my number right?” Julie nodded, sharing a confused look with the guys. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, I’m assuming you're going to try and make it big and  Ray doesn’t know the music business as I do and I’ve told Carrie the same thing. But do not take any meetings with anyone without me. Those people will take advantage of you because you're young and alone.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She won’t be alone. We’ll be in every meeting with her!” Luke jumped in, sounding offended that his old friend would even imply that they would leave the girl by herself. From the corner of his eye, the older man could see the other two ghosts nod in agreement.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But it won’t look like that will it? And she can’t exactly tell everyone that her band is made up of ghosts, now can she?” Bobby could almost close his eyes and it would feel like a normal day with him and Luke bickering. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And what are you going to do? Play every meeting you walk into? Your guitar and Reggie’s bass you could probably explain. But Alex’s drums?” Luke didn’t have an answer for either of those questions, but Bobby didn’t expect him to. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“All I’m saying is that it might be good to have some backup in those meetings. Someone who knows the whole story.  Because we all know there will be questions about why you guys aren’t in the meetings and it's just her. I can help.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It sounds like you’re offering to be our manager, Trevor.” His attention was brought back to Julie. He shrugged, “Maybe I am. I’m not really making music anymore...and I do know the business from being in it for the last twenty-four years. Why not? I could represent Dirty Candi and you guys. You two girls have the power to be the voices of your generation.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A look was shared between Julie and the boys before they each nodded. Julie stopped playing as did Luke, Reggie, and finally, Alex’s drums faded out too. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bobby?” The man looked to Reggie, but he was just in time to see Reggie disappear from his sight. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Now his eyes found Alex, but just like Reggie, he too disappeared. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“For everything.” Luke finished for his bandmates, then he vanished as well. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re still here. But only I can see them now. Because we stopped playing.” Julie explained as she watched Trevor look around the space. She smiled brightly at him (and it was Rose’s grin that she had) while she held out a hand, “They say welcome to team Julie and the Phantoms.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bobby couldn’t help the snort that came out because</span>
  <em>
    <span> Julie and the Phantoms. It was right under his nose the whole time. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm not quite sure how I feel about the ending, but it is what it is I guess. Overall, I hope you enjoyed this as much as I have while writing it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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